


Stubborn

by Bellaz0id



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Dean Winchester/reader friendship, F/M, Fluff, Love, Reader-Insert, Romance, The First Blade, argument, fight, the mark of cain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellaz0id/pseuds/Bellaz0id
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is arguing with Sam, yet again, about the First Blade and the Mark. The reader finally butt's in and tells Dean how she really feels about what he's becoming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stubborn

**Author's Note:**

> My first time posting here! Just a little drabble/One Shot, really. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

It was raining peacefully outside. A perfect, steady sort of rain, though deep inside the Men of Letters Bunker, you could hardly tell. Which you hated, really. It made it more suffocating, like you'd been buried deep under ground where no one would ever find you or hear you scream. Not that that was ever really a concern with Sam and Dean at your side. But hey, they don't call it an irrational fear for nothing. 

You'd caught wind of a possible case in Kentucky. A haunting, you suspected, some kind of spirit. Sam, Dean and you had decided to leave first thing in the morning. And then Sam brought up the First Blade. And now they'd been arguing for going on twenty minutes. You were sitting on top of one of the table's in the library, your legs crossed over the edge. So far you'd stayed out of the argument, hoping the brothers would hash it out. Your position was a precarious one. On one side, a best friend, a man you claimed as your brother; and on the other, your boyfriend, though that word never seemed adequate for what Sam was to you. It was too small, too trivial. Sam was sitting in the chair adjacent to you but he was pulled away from the table, angled toward the argument. Dean was standing next to the other table, on the opposite side from Sam. You realized you had positioned yourself as a sort of goalie between them.

“We're taking the blade on the hunt Sam! That's final. I don't know why you think this is a big deal!” 

“Dean, you're on the inside of this. You can't see what it's doing to you!” 

“Since when has that ever mattered? If it helps kill monsters, doesn't that trump anything else?” 

“Are you serious? You stopped me from closing the gates of Hell because you thought it was going to kill me!” 

“This is nothing like that, man,” Dean said with a shake of his head. 

“This is exactly like that!” Sam said. 

Dean glared at him. “You're making this way too big a deal,”

“Fine, how is it different, Dean?” Sam asked, frustrated. 

“Well, I'm not sick like you were. I'm not knocking on heaven's door, like you were.” 

“Fine, then what about... what about when I was drinking demon blood?” Sam said uneasily. He didn't bring up that certain aspect of his past in front you very often. 

“Are you serious?” Dean asked, offended. “You were drinking demon blood, Sam.”

“Okay, I'm not going to defend my actions. But I thought I was doing good. I thought I was helping people. I didn't see the whole picture. Just like you and the blade.” 

“This isn't hurting me. I'm not getting those headaches and nose bleeds like you got. This isn't killing me, Sammy,” Dean said, shaking his head slightly and pointing an angry finger to the ground.

“Not yet,” you scoffed, finally piping up. Dean raised his eyebrows at you. You crossed your arms and continued. 

“I'm not sure you're even you anymore Dean! You-” you nearly shouted at him, finally letting your true feelings out but then you faltered as a memory of Dean fighting with the blade flashed through your mind. “You're scaring me...” you said, just above a whisper, but you held your eye contact with him. “The way you hacked at Abaddon's dead body... it wasn't human. And I know part of you knows that.”

Dean shook his head in frustration and looked somewhere off to the side of you and Sam. 

“So tell me, please,” he turned his face back to meet your gaze, “how you think the blade is going to kill me?” Dean asked sarcastically.

“I don't know, Dean. But I do know... something's changed in you. You live for the kill. And I don't know how much that part of you cares who it is you're killing.”

“What, so you think I might kill you?” Dean asked, hurt and defensive. “Or Sam? That's insane!” 

“Not you, Dean, but when the mark takes over, you don't see so straight anymore,” Sam said. 

“It's like the mark is doing the thinking and you're it's puppet,” you added.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh please! Of course you're going to take his side!” he said, throwing his arm out to indicate Sam.

You immediately stiffened and felt your entire face flush as anger seared your insides. Your lips were pursed and your eyes grew wide with hurt. They began to water. You didn't bother fighting it.

Dean could see instantly that he'd hit a nerve. Still angry but not wanting to hurt you further, and not entirely sure what he'd said wrong, he faltered and his face fell slightly. 

“How dare you Dean Winchester,” you snarled, barely moving your lips. A few tears spilled over and ran down your face.

“Wha-” Dean started. His eyes darted between you and Sam as he tried to figure out what he'd done wrong.

You felt a flame lick at your heart. “How dare you ever think that I would just agree with Sam rather than form my own opinion. You think I just follow him blindly? Like what, he's in charge of me? And especially when it comes to your well being! Your safety! Don't you know what you mean to me? I don't want to lose you like we almost lost Sam! And I will not just sit idly by while it happens again! And I will not now, or ever, just agree with Sam because I love him!” 

“Hey...” Dean said, his eyebrows were wrinkled with concern. “You know I didn't mean it like that...” That expression was so Dean, so completely the friend you'd been missing since he got the mark. You hadn't realized how many little things about Dean had changed until that moment... but you steeled those thoughts and emotions away for another time and got back to the argument.

“If it's something stupid, like what movie we're gonna watch or where we're gonna eat, then yeah, you might occasionally be fighting a losing battle. But we're talking about something a lot bigger than that, Dean. We're talking about your soul and you bet your ass I have an opinion about that. You are my family, Dean. How dare you think me incapable of legitimate concern for you.” 

Dean glanced to Sam who was looking at you with admiration. The subject at hand, though, kept his small smile from reaching his eyes. You slipped down from the table and rested your lower back against it's edge with your arms crossed.

“It was just an off hand comment. I didn't mean it. But I'm sorry. I shouldn't... belittle you like that,” he said, sincerely apologetic.

You swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “Thank you,” you said calmly as you took a step toward him and dropped your arms. 

“Now, do you understand the other thing Sam and I are trying to tell you?” 

“I don't and I won't. This is final. The blade goes where I go.” 

You turned back to Sam who was staring at the ceiling in frustration. Your face was still wet from your tears but you made no effort to get rid of them. “Your brother is as stubborn as a god damn mule.” 

“Why do you think we fight so much?” he said, with a small laugh.

“Yes, well, that would be all well and cute,” you turned back to face Dean, “if this weren't a life or death situation.” 

Dean scoffed.

“Why, after all those times you helped me, would I sit back and let you do this to yourself? Just because it serves the greater good? You're more important to us than that.” Sam had stood up and was pressing his palms on to the table. 

Dean paced slightly while you and Sam stood in your spots, unflinching. 

Finally, Dean spoke. “Alright, well, we got a case. And none of us seem to be budging any time soon. So we gonna stay up and argue about this all night?” 

You glanced to Sam and he nodded at you.

“Compromise. The blade stays in the trunk, unless we need it,” you said, attempting to seem calm and cordial. “Which we won't. Because it's like using a bomb to get rid of a cockroach,” you added, unable to completely control your frustration.

“Alright, sounds good,” Dean said, rubbing his hands together and apparently ignoring your second comment. “I'm gonna go to bed. You two should do the same.”

He turned to leave the room and took several steps toward the door.

“Dean?” you called after him.

“Hmm?” he said as he turned back to you.

“I just want you to know...” you hesitated as tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes, “I don't feel safe around you, the way you are now. And I don't feel safe having anyone I love around you, and that includes you. You're hurting me and you're hurting Sam and just-” you sniffed and thought for a second, not wanting to spiral into another angry tirade against him. "Just promise me you'll think about that before you pick up the blade again,” you added gently. 

You could see that, though he fought them, Dean's eyes had begun to water from the sting of your words. He pursed his lips and balled up his fists before he turned his face away from yours. He nodded slightly then turned and stalked out of the room. 

You turned to Sam who was already out of his chair and walking toward you. You stood with your arms still crossed, feeling like you were holding your insides in. Sam wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head. “Thank you,” he whispered. You fought the urge to let it all out no matter how much Sam's embrace told you to do just that. This was his battle just as much as yours and you hoped your strength would keep up his. 

“It's gonna be okay,” he said, stroking your head, and rubbing your back. You took it all in and let yourself enjoy it for a moment before replying.

“That might mean something if I thought you actually believed that, Sam.” 

“In the end, we'll find a way. We always do.” 

“Is this... optimism? From Sam Winchester?” you asked, playing confused. Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he said as he let go of you and took a step back, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“I'm sorry, what creature is currently possessing you and making you say these topsy-turvy things?” you joked.

Sam let a beat pass. “The only response I have is really, painfully hokey.” 

You studied his face. “Okay, my curiosity is peaked....” 

He drug his hand down his face. “It's just so hokey,” he turned his face toward the ceiling. You slid close to him and pinched playfully at his side, tickling him. He jerked his hips away from your touch.

“You're not getting out of it so you might as well tell me before things get... out of hand,” you sneered, arching an eyebrow up at him.

He rolled his eyes at you and took a deep breath. Then he looked directly in to your eyes with a force so intense, you almost couldn't comprehend it. Your breath hitched. “You. You... possessed my heart. You make me... optimistic.” Your giant, playful grin fell. That hadn't been the response you were expecting. In spite of yourself, the tiniest smile formed on your lips as you thought about what he said. You took a minute to fight the urge to tease him and instead followed the side of you that said it was sweet and heartfelt.

You smiled up at him. “Okay, that is hokey,” you both chuckled lightly. “But... I'm glad I've had an impression for the better,” you said as you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. 

“We're gonna be okay,” Sam said, reassuringly. “I believe that. All of us.” 

You wished he was right. You wanted to believe, too. 

But part of you knew Dean wouldn't bend on this, not until it was too late. But you smiled at Sam and let him hold your hand as he pulled you to the hallway and down, toward his bedroom. 

You passed the door to Dean's room and your heart squeezed tightly, making you short of breath.

You began to wonder how far away the day was when Dean's things would be touched by his hand for the last time. The day when the air in that room would grow stagnant and would no longer smell of him... And you and Sam wouldn't be able to even look at the door. And it would become the room that didn't exist because acknowledging it's emptiness would be too painful...

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it...
> 
> I hope you liked it! Please leave a comment to let me know what you thought!


End file.
